


ginger tea (with honey and lemon)

by earthgeist



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comfort, Crushes, Drinking, M/M, Seonghwa has a cold, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, this is really very sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthgeist/pseuds/earthgeist
Summary: San has a crush. Seonghwa has a cold.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 37
Kudos: 253
Collections: Round One





	ginger tea (with honey and lemon)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 37: B pressing their forehead against A's forehead to check if they have a fever. 
> 
> aaaaaa i love writing sanhwa sO much. i hope u enjoy!!! ♡

San and Wooyoung may or may not be running late. 

Yunho had organised a festive get-together for their friend group before everyone spends winter break at their respective family homes. Moments before they could leave, Wooyoung had realised he’d misplaced his secret Santa gift somewhere in their not-particularly-tidy apartment, and so they’d left 20 minutes later than they had planned. 

San can’t say he’s massively annoyed about it, however. He’s wearing his lucky (and pretty tatty) pair of reindeer-patterned socks (that he tipped his room upside-down to find, and simply _must_ wear to his first festive event of every year). So, hopefully good fortune will be on their side. The subway was quieter than it usually is on a Friday evening; San takes that as a sign that they’re working their magic. 

“ _So…_ ” Wooyoung cautiously starts. 

_Ah._ With just a few blocks left to go, San thought maybe he’d make the entire journey without Wooyoung bringing _that_ up. He sighs, his breath clouding before him. 

“No.” He replies, pointedly keeping his gaze straight ahead. 

“Oh come onnnnnnnnnn!” Pout evident in his tone, Wooyoung leans into him as they walk, causing the older boy to stumble. “You can’t just drunkenly tell me you’re crushing on one of our friends a mere two days ago and then act like it never happened!”

San huffs. “I can, and I will.”

He picks up his pace slightly, pushing his icy hands further into his pockets. 

Wooyoung half-jogs after him, hooking his arm through San’s so he can’t speed-walk away. 

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? I just wanna know what you’re thinking. Was it true? Or was it just the alcohol speaking? Are you nervous about seeing him?”

“Yes, unfortunately it was true, and no, it wasn’t the alcohol speaking.” San scoffs, though it’s fairly devoid of humour. “And yes, I am nervous about seeing him. Very nervous, in fact, and your interrogation is most certainly not helping.” San throws his best friend an unimpressed look. Wooyoung rolls his eyes in response. 

San’s gaze falls to the pavement now, though. 

“It’s not a big deal, though, or anything. Please don’t make it a big deal. I know he doesn’t see me like that, so, it’s chill. It’s fine.”  
He can feel himself starting to involuntarily shrink inwards.

Wooyoung clicks his tongue, rubs San’s arm with a mittened hand.  
“Of course I won’t. I just wanna make sure that I’m made aware if I’m required for any wingman duties!” Wooyoung says with a wink, though his tone is much gentler. 

San softly laughs. “If you could just keep an eye out to make sure I don’t make too much an idiot of myself, that would be great.” 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

The pair of them arrive at Yunho and Mingi’s apartment, and not a moment too soon (or too late, thanks to San’s trusty socks). San’s nose is so cold, he wouldn’t be surprised if giving it a flick would break it clean off. 

They’re greeted by a chorus of _”Hey”_ s at varying degrees of enthusiasm. Yunho had asked for everyone to bring a snack of some sort to share, and Wooyoung slides a Tupperware container filled with chocolate brownies across the kitchen counter towards him. (Failing to mention, of course, that he and San had already devoured half of the original batch.) 

The apartment’s adorned with rainbow lights and red-and-green-striped paper chains dangling and zig-zagging across the entire ceiling, the kitchen cupboards, the window frames, there’s even a lamp with tinsel wrapped around the base of it. It’s nice. San loves it, loves the borderline tackiness of it all. Yunho and Mingi probably had a blast putting them up, and just that thought alone is enough to fill San’s heart with a lot of love for his friends. 

Once they’ve rid themselves of their hats, gloves, scarves, boots, coats, hoodies and second-hoodies, they squish onto the baby blue sofa alongside Jongho, who’s currently playing Mario Kart on solo mode, and very passionately at that. He’s playing as Bowser. Mingi’s currently lying upside-down on a beanbag near Jongho’s feet, seemingly engrossed by something on his phone. It appears to be a ruse, though, as while his gaze is glued to the screen, he snakes a lanky arm behind him to tickle San’s socked foot, earning him a luckily quite gentle kick in the head. 

Yunho’s humming along to Last Christmas as he potters around the kitchen, an apron designed to look like a Santa suit loosely tied around his waist. San thought at first that the others were leaving Yunho to prepare the food out of sheer laziness, but now he realises it’s probably because the guy looks very much in the ~zone~ as he cooks, and they’d be more of a hindrance than a help. 

The doorbell rings, and a distracted _”Can someone get that?”_ drifts from the kitchen. Jongho’s still very preoccupied, Mingi’s acting like he didn’t hear anything, and Wooyoung’s just pointedly Looking at San, so San takes it upon himself to do the honours. After a dramatic (and somewhat exaggerated) stumble over a gangly leg in his path, San makes it to the apartment’s front door. 

San’s already grinning before he’s opening the door, chirping a vibrant “ _Hiii!!_ ”, though it tapers off slightly when he takes in the sight of a half-frozen Yeosang, Hongjoong and…Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa is somehow reminding San of how a piece of meat probably feels when you forget to take it out of the freezer for your mum three hours ago and have to fling it into the microwave on the highest defrost setting for five minutes. He’s got a white, fluffy scarf twirled around his neck about three times over, and a pastel pink puffer coat on. He looks undeniably adorable, but the warm colouring of the coat emphasises the redness of his nose a little too much. Perhaps Seonghwa’s immune system has taken a punch or two from the bitter weather. He offers San a bleary-eyed smile, and proceeds to cutely sneeze behind his hands. 

Yeah, he’s absolutely fucking Whipped with a capital W. San’s been harbouring this kinda-sorta-definite-crush for a month or so by now, a tiny yet frustratingly robust pearl gently cupped in his palm. Sometimes his fist is balled so tight the pressure is almost crushing. Sometimes, when San lets his imagination and hopes get the better of him, or when Seonghwa does something particularly endearing, it’s as if his palm is splayed wide, flat as an open book, allowing the kernel to roll around in such a precarious manner it could almost fall right off the side and into someone else’s unknowing hands. 

And that’s basically what happened when San got drunk with Wooyoung the other day. Which is okay, because it has to be okay. San definitely (mostly) trusts Wooyoung, he’s his closest friend after all. But having another person in on this little secret makes it feel all that more real, and San feel very much less in control of it. But it’s okay. Yes, he wishes he could stuff that slurred confession back down his throat, but at least it was just Wooyoung. It’s okay. It’s fine. 

Hongjoong clears his throat. San had kinda forgotten the other two were there, and he’s pretty sure he heard them say _”Hi”_ back, his brain just didn’t really stop to process it whilst it was…preoccupied. He steps back to let them through the doorway, the tips of his ears tinted pink. They stain an even deeper cerise when Seonghwa utters a quiet “ _Nice socks…_ ” as he passes San; his words tinted with mirth…though it almost feels as if there’s another, better concealed emotion glazing his tone. 

The six of them crowd into the living room while Yeosang braves the Yunho-shaped ball of half-excitement-half-stress as it bounces around the kitchen to see whether the taller boy needs any assistance. To be honest, San had always thought that their mellow-vs-peppy energies balanced each other out pretty well, and seeing the way Yeosang’s gazing at Yunho when he thinks no one else is looking, San’s got to admit that he hit the nail on the head with that particular deduction. 

“What’re you smiling about?” 

San gets snapped out of his reverie by Wooyoung’s gaze boring into him. 

“Nothing, nothing.” San replies, though he can still feel a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

The only table in Yunho and Mingi’s apartment is the low coffee table in the centre of the lounge. Once Jongho’s round of Mario Kart finishes, he slides off the sofa to join Hongjoong on the floor, sitting cross-legged beside him. Mingi’s still sprawled across his beanbag. Which leaves Seonghwa, now unwrapped from his fluffy scarf and coat cocoon, to perch on the couch next to San. He’s wearing a black sweater with tiny little stars embroidered in it to give the effect of a night sky. It’s beautiful, so quite appropriate for the boy wearing it. 

Of course, Wooyoung, who was sat on San’s other side, suddenly seems incredibly interested in whatever Hongjoong and Jongho are now discussing and so shuffles onto the ground to sit beside them. San scoots over slightly into the newly freed space to give Seonghwa a little more room, shooting him a shy smile as he does. He can already feel his adrenaline start to spike, and it’s pretty bizarre how a few months ago San could’ve looked at Seonghwa and just seen a good (and damn attractive) friend. Not a lick of nervousness. But now, his belly’s flip-flopping, his palms are sweating, and his mind’s reeling with the unsettling conflict of the sheer _niceness_ and giddy excitement the proximity provides, whilst another reedy voice in his head whines that these feelings are _wrong wrong wrong,_ he’s your _friend_.

San’s not too sure exactly when or how it happened. He just knows that Seonghwa’s laughter went from sounding funny, to kinda cute in a funny way, to just really cute, to downright endearing. _Well_. Maybe he has an inkling. 

A month or so back, they both pulled an all-nighter to finish assignments due the next morning. They holed up in San’s bedroom the entire time, helping each other through those painstaking ten hours by hiding each other’s phones and giving feedback on each other’s work. Somewhere, in that energy-drink-and-doritos-induced stupor, something changed…for San, at least. Maybe it was the genuine enthusiasm and interest Seonghwa’s eyes glowed with whenever San read out a paragraph from his assignment, or the excitement the older boy exuded when he read aloud his own to San, or maybe it was the way they hugged for a little too long after both clicking ‘submit’, unbridled relief and utter exhaustion causing them to sag against one another as the first few trills of birdsong started outside. Whatever it was, it unravelled with a fluttering in San’s heart that definitely wasn’t there before. 

Snapping back to reality, San’s luckily saved from the painstaking task of attempting conversation as Yunho yells “ _FOOD’S READY!!!_ ”, followed by Yeosang rushing out of the kitchen carrying a plate stacked high with bulgogi. He’s somehow also acquired a snowman-patterned apron, similar to Yunho’s. 

Soon, every surface available, from the table, to the floor, to the thighs of folded legs, is covered with plates and bowls and spoons and chopsticks and glasses and mugs. Not a single word is uttered as the spread gets scarfed down, except for the odd grunt of encouragement for Yunho to open wide as he gets fed as much as physically possible as thanks for preparing it. It’s mostly Yeosang doing the feeding. San smiles again behind his spoon. He watches Seonghwa drop a bit of kimchi before his chopsticks reach his mouth and he smiles even wider. 

“Something funny?” Seonghwa breaks the near-silence with an indignant look at San as he munches on his mouthful. There’s warmth in his eyes, though. San can see it and it makes him feel warm, too. 

“Only your impeccable dining showmanship…” San manages, his brain somewhat delayed in panicking at the prolonged eye contact. 

Seonghwa seems to start to laugh, but all that comes out is a succession of coughs. San raises an eyebrow. It sounds like someone’s poured some gravel in to the bottom of Seonghwa’s lungs. 

“Are you getting sick?”

Seonghwa clears his throat.  
“No, no, just feeling a bit under the weather, I think…” A weak smile.

San just squints at him before piling more meat onto the older boy’s plate.

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

Once all the food and plates are cleared away and everyone’s had a turn at washing the dishes, they crowd back around the coffee table to start exchanging secret Santa gifts. San’s secret Santa gift is for Yeosang; it’s a novelty mug in the shape of a camera lens, which San thinks is a pretty damn good gift as Yeosang studies photography. Five minutes later, and the other boy’s already doing soju shots out of it. Mingi was San’s secret Santa, and the taller boy gifts him a plushy that looks uncannily similar in colouring to San’s family cat, Byeol. San hugs it to his chest, in love, and also touched that Mingi must’ve paid attention to him complaining about missing his feline friend quite a bit recently. 

Seonghwa’s secret Santa is Yunho, who gives him an iPhone case with a deep purple and glittery gold marbling effect. San hates to admit it, but he’s jealous. But not of the gift, however pretty it is. He’s jealous that Yunho gets to give Seonghwa something and incite that adorable look of surprise and joy from the older boy. Realistically, there was nothing stopping San from just getting Seonghwa a gift anyway, separate from the secret Santa. But that might’ve seemed weird to Seonghwa and unfair to the others, right? Or maybe San’s just a bit of a coward. 

They start passing the lens-mug around the circle, each taking a swig (or five) of soju. They’re playing some kind of bizarre drinking game that involves a lot of tongue twisters for some reason. Seonghwa giggles every time someone butchers the pronunciation of a tongue twister, and each time his shoulder bumps into San’s, the younger boy’s breath hitches ever so slightly. To be honest, San’s senses are in a constant state of red alert, hyperaware of every millimetre of Seonghwa he feels beside him through the two layers of their clothes. He can feel the warmth of Seonghwa’s leg next to his, bleeding through the fabric of his jeans. It’s unusually warm, actually. Maybe Seonghwa has a fever. 

San keeps thinking about that. As the game progresses, as the laughter starts to grow and his thoughts start to go murky round the edges, San’s still thinking about how _warm_ Seonghwa feels; the idea of cuddling into Seonghwa and how that’d feel. Similar to that fatigue-induced hug they shared those weeks ago? Or…different? 

Then again, every time Seonghwa coughs, San wonders once again if the warmth is actually something he should be worried about. But every time San tries to give Seonghwa a concerned look after an especially excessive coughing fit, the older boy just disregards it with a clipped shake of his head. Seonghwa’s probably trying to kid himself into believing that if he completely ignores his grogginess, it’ll hopefully go away. It doesn’t seem like it’s working much, though, and San’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, or the crush, or his concern, or the warmth seeping into his bones and turning his brain all floppy, but as the evening draws to a close and people start getting ready to leave, he feels a little…courageous. Just enough so that as he stands before Seonghwa, instead of giving him a brief squeeze of a farewell hug, he finds himself…leaning forwards. And he has no idea why, or what causes him to, but he leans in, and his heart goes _!!!!!!!!!!!!_ for a split second before it catches up with his intentions, because he doesn’t lean in for a kiss, but to press his forehead to Seonghwa’s, murmuring a muffled “Yeah, you definitely have a temperature”. San’s brain ever-so-usefully tucks away the realisation that Seonghwa’s shampoo must be apple scented. 

Seonghwa just _looks_ at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, completely speechless. San’s head finally catches up with his body and he covers his disbelief at what he just did with a blanket of shy laughter, paired with a disapproving look at Seonghwa. 

“You definitely _are_ getting sick, hyung. Promise me you’ll buy some medicine?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Seonghwa shuts his gaping mouth and mutters a soft _“Yes, yes, I’ll get some medicine, don’t worry.”_ It may just be wishful thinking on San’s behalf, but though his voice sounds minutely peevish, the gleam of his eyes and the quirk of his mouth give the impression that instead of simply feeling tired of San chiding him like a parent would a child, the older boy is actually…enjoying it, maybe. 

Either way, San doesn’t get much more time to mull over it as Seonghwa’s getting hurried out the door by an impatient Hongjoong (“ _We’re gonna miss our bus, hyung,_ ”), and Wooyoung’s dragging San down onto the sofa with a sluggish arm so they can both tie their shoes. 

On the train home, Wooyoung doesn’t mention Seonghwa, and San isn’t sure if it’s because the other boy’s too tipsy to be teasing him about it again, or some other reason. Nonetheless, San can feel the unsaid words in the smirk Wooyoung gives him when he mentions that he reckons Seonghwa’s coming down with a cold, and he almost wants the younger boy to ask. Because maybe agonising about this situation aloud is better than just doing it in his head. But then again, that’s probably the thought process drunk San had the other day when he spilled to Wooyoung. So maybe…maybe it’s best that his roommate says nothing at all during their quiet subway ride home. 

_Are you gonna do anything about it?_

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

The next day, San’s sporting a mild hangover, thought it probably would’ve been ten times worse if he hadn’t chugged that litre of water before going to sleep. According to the alarm clock next to his face, it’s 6:30am and as he lays like a little burrito wrapped in the cosy softness of his bed sheets, he squints at the head-splitting brightness of the room light that’s…switched on? _Why is it switched on?!_ Huffing a groggy groan, San pulls his pillow over his head to dampen the light bleeding through his eyelids. 

He feels a hand gently shaking his shoulder. 

“Mmmmphh. Five more minutes.” Despite the bedding muffling his voice, Wooyoung understands him perfectly, and he dramatically sighs. 

“ _Duuuuude,_ if I want to make my train, I need to leave the apartment in approximately thirty seconds. Just, give me my goodbye hug and you can drift back off into dreamland straight after. Maybe Seonghwa-hyung’s waiting for you in your next dream…” 

Too tired to retort with anything witty, San just groans again as he begrudgingly peels away his comforter cocoon. 

With much effort (and he makes enough sound effects for to Wooyoung know just how much effort) he hoists himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs round to the floor. On unsteady feet, he flops his arms around Wooyoung in the best attempt of a hug he can currently manage. The younger boy embraces him tightly back, and San’s gonna miss this. Even if it’s just for a couple weeks, San’s going to miss the vivacious familiarity of having his best friend nearby all the time. San squeezes a little tighter, taking in a deep breath of Wooyoung’s coconut-scented conditioner before letting his arms return to his sides. Wooyoung’s family only live like half an hour away by train, but it’s still gonna be weird not having him in the apartment. 

“Go on! I seriously don’t want to be the reason you miss your train…even if there’s probably another one five minutes after it…” Wooyoung indignantly punches him on the arm, pulling a laugh from San. “Send me a photo when you get home!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going.” And he evidently is—he’s got his suitcase ready by the front door, and his coat and shoes are already on. Wooyoung must’ve left the goodbye hug till last so that San could get a bit more sleep. _Cute._

And with a wholehearted grin and a sing-song “ _Love you looooooots!_ ”, Wooyoung’s gone and San’s leaping face-first into his still-warm bed, but not before switching his bedroom light back off. 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

San sleeps for a few more hours before slowly rousing back awake, a softer and much gentler light filtering through the gaps in his blinds. His headache’s basically gone now, too. Nice. 

Munching on a spoonful of granola, San scrolls through his phone notifications. Wooyoung’s sent him a succession of photos of various views from a train window. San replies with a sticker of a cat with heart eyes. 

He flicks from app to app, boredom and restlessness itching beneath his skin. Most of their friend group would be on their respective journeys home today to spend Christmas with family. San’s going home too, but only for a few days; his manager at the coffee shop he works at kicked up a real fuss about needing employees available for over the holiday period, and San didn’t bother arguing—he needs the extra money, anyway. But now there’s no one to hang out with on his days off.

Well, _nearly_ no one. 

San’s pretty sure he heard Seonghwa mention to Yeosang yesterday that the cheapest train he could book home is in a week’s time. So that means…Seonghwa’s also still in Seoul. And perhaps just as bored as San. 

He opens Seonghwa’s contact in his phone and taps the Facetime button. As the dial tone rings, San assures himself that he’s simply doing this because he’s so damn bored, and it has nothing to do with the boy on the other end of the phone, or his crush on said boy.

The screen lights up, and San’s…San’s actually too shocked to speak for a couple of seconds. Today’s Seonghwa makes yesterday’s Seonghwa seem like a picture of health. This Seonghwa is currently laid horizontal on…a bed? A sofa? San’s not sure, all he can see is blankets and pillows of every size surrounding the older boy’s head. Seonghwa’s squinting at the brightness of his own phone’s screen, seemingly disoriented and almost perplexed, as if he’s still coming to grips with the fact that he’s on a video call right now. His cheeks are flushed scarlet, though San doesn’t think it’s from blushing. Seonghwa’s dark locks are strewn haphazardly across his forehead, some damp; stuck down flat with what must be sweat. He’s got a piece of rolled tissue wedged up each of his nostrils. San still thinks he looks angelic. 

“Sannie? Hey…I’m not sure why I-“ Seonghwa’s face scrunches up momentarily as he sneezes. “-why I answered this, I think I pressed the green button automatically before realising that it-“ He sniffs. “-that it meant you’d be able to see me. Sorry, I don’t look great, I know.”

San huffs a sigh, though he’s more endeared than exasperated. “Hyung, only you would feel the need to apologise for your appearance in a situation like this. Are…are you okay? Did you get that medicine like you said you would?” 

Seonghwa croaks a chesty laugh. “Well, I’ve definitely felt better. And…ummmm…not exactly? But I’ve been drinking a lot of ginger tea with lemon and honey, and I think it might’ve helped a bit. I don’t really feel like traipsing all the way to the store. I’m not really sure if I have the energy to.”

San’s heart aches for his groggy friend. “Is Sungjae-ssi there? Can’t he go to the store for you?” Surely Seonghwa’s roommate would be more than happy to help. 

Seonghwa pouts a little. “Ah, no, he already travelled home for Christmas a couple of days ago. It’s okay, San. I’m alright—I’ll just sleep it out.” He sniffs again, one of the tissues becoming dislodged. 

“Absolutely not. You really think I’m gonna let my favourite hyung battle out a monster of a cold all on his own? Think again.” The words are out before San can spare them a second thought, and he feels pretty impressed that he managed them. “…Unless you’d rather be alone?”

“Oh…erm…I don’t-…you really don’t have to do that, San. Honestly, I don’t want to be a burden or anything.” Seonghwa’s words begin to grow quiet by the end of the sentence, and he looks down at something off-screen, perhaps the floor behind his phone. “But I wouldn’t mind…that.” His voice is whisper-soft. 

San’s heartbeat quickens slightly. It’s not that he’s _glad_ his hyung is ill, not at all. It’s just nice to have a reason to go and see the other boy without having to come up with some sort of believable excuse. Then again…he and Seonghwa are already friends, so realistically he probably doesn’t need a fool-proof reason to see Seonghwa; he could message something like “ _I’m bored, wanna chill?_ ” and it’d be totally fine. But San can’t help but worry. He doesn’t want to be perceived as overeager, or anything. He doesn’t want Seonghwa to realise that San regards him any differently than he used to. He doesn’t want to make things _awkward_.

“Okay,” San replies, just as softly. “I’ll be there within the hour.”

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

San showers, throws on his comfiest hoodie and jeans combination, glances in the mirror as he shrugs on his coat. He fiddles with the red-and-black strands framing his face, and then laughs to himself for fussing about it as he really doubts Seonghwa’s going to care much about San’s hair arrangement in his current state. _Maybe he never cares about it._ San shakes away that thought. He spends too much time on his hair for it to be unnoticed. 

Before he leaves the apartment, San grabs a Tupperware container of yukgaejang from his freezer and shoves it in his backpack, along with his laptop. 

Seonghwa’s apartment is approximately a 20-minute subway journey, and San knows from being there countless times that there’s a convenience store two streets over, so he walks straight to that one from the subway station. Inside, he stands and stares at the fluorescent display of soft drinks for several minutes too long before settling on two grape sodas; one for him and one for Seonghwa if he feels like taking a break from the ginger tea. He picks up a pack of Seonghwa’s favourite jalapeño flavour potato chips, and a couple vitamin supplements. 

San stands at the register, having to take out one earbud playing Girls’ Generation’s _Dear Santa_ so he can ask the shop assistant for a small stack of the various cold and flu medicines kept on the display behind the counter. The guy’s wearing a reindeer antler headband with little bells on that tinkle when he moves, the merriness of them not quite matching his expression. 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

Once he’s been buzzed into Seonghwa’s apartment building, San takes the elevator, anticipation fluttering up his insides. He sees himself in the murky mirror of the elevator walls, and he looks a little out-of-sorts. San gives himself a mental shake. _It’s okay it’s okay it’s fine, you’re just a good friend helping out another good friend, it’s chill, totally, completely chill. Nothing to worry about._ His heart isn’t really listening. 

He waits at Seonghwa’s front door for the older boy to let him in, his little carrier bag of goodies gently swinging back and forth where it dangles from his wrist. The door opens, and he sucks in one last deep breath to steel himself before he’s heading inside. 

Seonghwa looks just as rough as he did on facetime, hair messy, nose red, lips chewed. He’s wearing a set of navy blue striped silk pyjamas, which oddly contrast to the rest of his appearance. He’s still managing to exude that otherworldly sort of beauty, though. San wished he looked that regal when he feels like crap. 

“Hey, man. You really didn’t need to do this. Thank you.” Seonghwa leans against the kitchen counter closest to the front door. 

“It’s cool! I’d only have wasted the day watching anime, anyway.” San huffs a quiet laugh at Seonghwa’s glazed expression from where he’s holding himself upright by his grip on the counter. “Hyung, please return to whatever default position you were sporting before I intruded. You don’t need to play the role of impeccable host today.” 

Then San remembers the carrier bag he’s still holding. “Sorry, just before you do that-“ He fishes out the medication and hands it to the older boy. “ _-please_ take some of this.” San opens one of the grape soda cans and slides it over so Seonghwa can swallow the tablets. 

“Okay, _now_ you can go.”

At that, Seonghwa visibly deflates and makes his way over to the sofa where there’s a fairly obvious human-shaped indentation among the blankets and cushions. He lets himself half-topple backwards into it, slotting back in perfectly. He breathes an audible sigh of relief as he relaxes back down into the pillows. It’s really quite cute, San thinks. Of course he thinks that. San starts busying himself by unpacking his bag, trying to distract himself from his sappy thoughts. 

He pulls out the yukgaejang container and sets about warming it up for Seonghwa. The soup is a recipe that San’s mum has perfected over many years, and it was always her go-to when San or his sister were poorly. When San left his family home to study performing arts at university, his mother had scrawled down her recipe on a piece of paper, folded it and handed it to him as a sort of parting gift. Luckily, or not-so-luckily, Wooyoung came down with the flu a few weeks back and it gave San a chance to follow the family recipe for the first time, and he had to admit, he was fairly impressed with the results. Wooyoung had been, too. 

Once the soup’s piping hot, San roots around the cupboards for a bowl (he finds a _Spirited Away_ patterned one, so obviously he picks that) along with a spoon. Putting it on a tray, he brings it around to the couch and places the it on the coffee table in front of a comatose Seonghwa who’s currently half-heartedly scrolling through his Instagram feed. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to sit up for this, hyung.” San says, failing to keep just a teeny weeny bit of amusement out of his tone. 

Putting his phone down, Seonghwa pushes himself upright, groaning all the while. San reckons he’s exaggerating to some degree for comedic effect. He hopes so, anyway. 

“San…I’m not sure if I have the energy to eat that.” Seonghwa looks up at him, wide, yet tired eyes boring into him. His cheek’s pulled into a half-smile. San assumes it’s out of embarrassment. 

“O-oh, that’s o-okay! N-no worries, I can help!” Without so much as a second thought, San’s sitting down next to Seonghwa, resting the tray on his own thighs, and as he dips the spoon in, the reality of what he’s about to do fully hits him. He blows on the spoonful a little, willing his hand to stop shaking. “S-sorry, it’s still a little hot,” San says, nervous laughter bubbling to the surface. Seonghwa’s looking at him like he’s speaking a different language.

_Is he serious?! Is this real?!_

As he lifts his hand towards Seonghwa, looking into the older boy’s stunned eyes, Seonghwa lets San get to about ten centimetres away before his facial expression breaks into a soft, incredulous laugh. 

“San-ah, I was- I was just joking, I’m not actually expecting you to feed me, that’s- that’s really sweet of you though.” 

“Oh…” San utters, his voice coming out very small, feeling pretty silly. But- 

Seonghwa’s not looking at him like he’s an idiot, or a creep, or anything like that. 

He’s looking down, cheeks dusted rose. His pretty mouth is tugged in a small, warm smile. 

San doesn’t feel quite so silly. Though he’s still holding this spoonful. Seonghwa notices that too, and he reaches over for the spoon, bringing it straight to his own lips. It’s probably cooled down a fair bit by this point, but Seonghwa’s eyebrows still raise by several centimetres, and he exclaims an impressed _“Whoa!!”_ after he swallows the mouthful. “Dude!!! This is _incredible_! Thank you _so_ much for this. I can literally feel my immune system sighing in relief.”

He finds himself laughing at that. “I’m glad, I hope it starts working a bit harder.” Seonghwa’s immune system is probably already operating at 110% capacity, but hey, it’s the sentiment that’s important, right?

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

Pulling his laptop out of his bag, he asks Seonghwa if he has any movies or tv shows he’s keen on watching. 

“Something…Christmassy.” Seonghwa says, with a slight shrug. He’s scraping the last dregs of the bowl with his spoon. 

“Have you seen _Love Actually_?”

Seonghwa shakes his head, expression clueless. 

San’s mind is made. 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

They both relax into the sofa, San leaning back and Seonghwa leaning into him. Not _sandwiched_ , just some of Seonghwa’s back against some of San’s chest; Seonghwa’s head resting just beneath San’s left shoulder. San’s not sure if Seonghwa’s this close to him because he _wants_ to be, or if it’s just where he ended up when he leant back and can’t be bothered to move. Either way, San feels like he should be more concerned about their proximity seeing as Seonghwa’s currently ill, but San’s immune system is pretty robust so he’s not too worried…or maybe, just maybe, the colossal crush he’s harbouring is clouding his judgement. 

Plus, if he sat further away, he wouldn’t be able to have the cutest boy ever leaning against his chest. He wouldn’t be able to smell Seonghwa’s definitely-apple-scented strands of hair as the back of his head rests just a short distance from San’s face. He wouldn’t be able to feel Seonghwa’s gentle, pretty laughter reverberating through his ribs and right into his heart. San feels _so_ warm. Not in a feverish way, though. Just in a gay-panic sort of way. Not that that’s any better. His hand’s tangled in the blanket nearest to him, the one Seonghwa’s tugged over both their laps. He squeezes the fluffy material between his fingertips, trying to ground himself. 

As the film progresses, San feels himself start to relax more. And, despite the odd rigidity of a sudden cough or sneeze, he thinks he feels Seonghwa begin to relax more, too. It’s nice to have the distraction of the film as it helps to take San’s attention away from thinking about stuff like whether or not Seonghwa can feel the speed of San’s heart thrumming against his shoulder. He still does feel his attention wandering, however. It wanders to things like noticing the slow rise and fall of Seonghwa’s frame beside his as he breathes; the softness of the tiny tufts of Seonghwa’s hair where it ends at the nape of his neck. Well, _apparent_ softness, San should say. He hasn’t touched them. He’s not _that_ weird. 

San knows there’s a sad bit in this film. Not like, so sad that it’ll ruin your day, but sad enough that when you see the happiness of some of the other storylines unfolding and concluding, they still feel a little shadowed by it. Well, that’s how San sees it, anyway. Many people probably watch it and remain completely unaffected, but he’s a cancerian, goddamnit. Of course he’s gonna tear up a little, regardless of whether he mentally steeled himself for it or not. 

He doesn’t, however, anticipate hearing the quiet sniffles from the boy in front of him that definitely don’t sound cold-related. As San’s seen the film before, he was able to blink away his tears fairly quickly, so his momentary surprise only lasts a few seconds before he’s gingerly moving his hand over to Seonghwa’s exposed arm to comfortingly rub the back of the older boy’s hand. It’s trembling a little; San’s unsure whether he’s being inappropriate or just plain weird, but he’s plenty reassured when Seonghwa frees his other hand to fully take hold of San’s, causing San to stop his ministrations as Seonghwa squeezes it tightly. San exhales. He didn’t even realise he was holding a breath. 

“You okay?” San whispers.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa whispers back. 

Seonghwa doesn’t let go. Neither does San.

They watch a couple more Christmas films, Seonghwa choosing the next one. San gets up a few times to make Seonghwa more tea and to retrieve the potato chips he bought earlier so they can share them. And still, every time San sits back down, Seonghwa threads his fingers back through San’s. Like it’s something they’ve always done. Seonghwa isn’t facing him, so San lets a little smile creep up onto his face. Maybe Seonghwa’s smiling too. He wouldn’t know. All of the conversation they exchange, however fleeting, is hushed and honey-sweet in San’s mouth. Like they’ve both had a bite of the earth’s finest apple and only they know about it, and if they speak too loudly the rest of the world will hear and the moment will be shattered. So they tip-toe. And they smile secret smiles. 

❄❅❄❅❄❅❄

The sun’s hanging pretty damn low in the sky now, it feels like it’s been just a golden sliver for so, _so_ long, like it’s been clinging on just for San to have a bit more time. But as the last few dregs slip beneath the horizon, San has to come to terms with the fact that he can’t just stay here forever.

“So,” San starts, as the credits start to roll. He doesn’t finish. 

Seonghwa sighs; a gentle exhale. The sound of it makes San think maybe Seonghwa was thinking something similar to San about the sun setting. 

“Yeah. I’d love to ask for you to stay and pamper me some more, but you really should head home before it gets too dark out.” He chuckle-coughs, then leans forward to he can turn to look at San. It’s slightly overwhelming seeing the beautiful planes of his face, lit by the dimly cold glow of the laptop screen. 

“I finish work at 2pm, so I can always come back tomorrow if you’re still feeling under the weather?” _Or even if you’re not,_ San should add. It hangs, unspoken, in the air between them, along with other things. 

“I’d like that.” It’s so quiet, San almost doesn’t catch it. 

But he does, and he smiles in reply. 

Seonghwa heaves himself up from the sofa, groaning dramatically the same way he did earlier. He pads over to the kitchen counter to switch on the kettle, probably to make more tea. 

San packs away his things, tugs on his shoes, and he feels a bit _sad_. Sad that the day’s over, that this golden moment they’ve been sharing will inevitably pass soon. But he also feels grateful. Grateful that it happened at all, and that gratefulness mostly sweeps away that smattering of melancholy. 

As he’s heading over to the front door, Seonghwa’s still busying with his tea, and San’s about to chirp a quick “ _See ya!_ ” when Seonghwa looks up and San curses himself for trying to skip out on the awkwardness of a proper goodbye. Seemingly finished making his tea, Seonghwa leaves it on the side before he walks over. 

“Thanks again, San-ah. I really do appreciate it.” Seonghwa’s looking at San with intent, so San takes it as gratefulness. He’s just about to reply with an _Honestly, it’s nothing hyung,_ when Seonghwa speaks up again. 

“I feel like just saying thank you isn’t enough. Could I…buy you dinner? When I’m not ill, of course…” Seonghwa’s looking intensely at his own feet, like he’s never seen them before. 

San’s butterflies suddenly pick up like a whirlwind in his ribs. “Just…just a normal meal? Is that what you mean?” 

Seonghwa looks up at that, and though his wide eyes tell a different story, he still has the nerve to allow his lips to tug into the ghost of a smirk. 

“What do you want me to mean?” The older boy says. 

And… _oh._

“…Not…that…?” 

“Okay. That’s cool with me.” 

“O…kay?”

Seonghwa laughs at that, rolling his eyes in an endeared sort of way. 

“Sannie, a date? Do you want to go on one? With me?” 

San, stunned, has to take a few seconds to just _look_ at Seonghwa to decipher whether or not the older boy’s playing some sort of prank. 

Seonghwa’s just looking back at him, his expression a mixture of candid amusement, which is gradually ebbing away to show plain nervousness. There’s nothing to imply that he’s kidding. San’s mouth drops open a little. 

“Y-yeah. I do, yeah.” The sheer vulnerability of admitting that has San’s blood pumping loudly in his ears, though it quietens when he sees the joy that lights up Seonghwa’s face. He can’t help but grin right back. He’s not even wearing his lucky reindeer socks today.

San’s felt like he’s been treading water for a while, but it feels like Seonghwa’s reaching out, taking hold of his hand so that maybe…they can tread water together. Maybe they’ll find ground together, too.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know if there's any useful tags i missed !! ^^


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